


love consists in this

by DizzyDrea



Category: Blue Bloods (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Romance, Secret Relationship, Trope Bingo Round 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were days when Garrett thought his boss took special delight in making his life difficult. Strangely, this wasn't one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love consists in this

**Author's Note:**

> This has been percolating at the back of my mind for a while, but it's just now decided to come together. Thank Muse and Trope Bingo, otherwise this wouldn't exist. It isn't, strictly speaking, a sequel to [Love Me Sweet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/402836), but it can be read that way if you like.
> 
> For my Trope Bingo square: _secret relationship_
> 
> Disclaimer: Blue Bloods is the property of Panda Productions, Paw In Your Face Productions, CBS Productions, CBS Television Studios and a lot of other people who aren't me. I'm doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

_Love consists in this: that two solitudes protect, and touch, and greet each other._  
 _~Rainer Maria Rilke_

~o~

Garrett Moore stepped out of the elevator, heading down the hall towards the Commissioner's office. When Detective Baker looked up, he held up the folder he was carrying, flashing a wan smile as he walked by, not even waiting for her nod of approval.

He opened the door without knocking, as per usual, and as per usual, Frank Reagan didn't even have to look up to know who it was.

"I'm not putting out a press release apologizing for every protester who stubs their toe on a police barricade intended to protect them, Garrett."

Garrett flashed a smile, even though he knew his boss couldn't see it. They'd already gone ten rounds on the subject earlier in the day, so he knew better than to even try broaching the topic again. The distinct lack of response from One Police Plaza grated on his last nerve, especially considering that meant the protesters owned the news cycle and it was their message that was getting out and not his. 

Besides, he knew better than to bring it up again. Frank had never been a patient man, but the Occupy protesters had tested what limited reserves he had by causing mayhem and forcing the use of resources that were best spent doing other things, such as preventing actual crime. 

"What is it this time?" Frank asked with a resigned sigh. 

Garrett realized his boss had put down his pen and was staring at him expectantly while he'd been off woolgathering. That didn't happen often, so he felt slightly chagrined. He schooled his face into a cheerful smile and handed over the folder he'd been carrying.

"Summary of commendations for the month," he said, even though his boss was already reading through the list and could probably have figured it out himself. "There are a couple you may want to be present for, but most of them are pretty standard fare."

Frank closed the file and set it to one side as he took off his glasses and rubbed his face. "Short list this month."

"It's been a rough month," Garrett rejoined. "And the protesters aren't making it any easier."

Frank looked up, frowning, but Garrett pulled an easy smile and raised his hands. "I know when to stop beating a dead horse. I'm just saying it's hard to be seen doing good when the only ones with the microphone are the ones making us look bad."

Frank harrumphed, but that was about as far as his commentary went. Seemed he knew how to quit beating the dead horse, too. And this wasn't an argument that was going away anytime soon. Garrett's job was to make sure the public saw the police doing their jobs, but sometimes you had to help them see what you wanted them to see. It was all about public perception, and yes, he knew that his boss hated politics, but sometimes you had to get down in the mud to wrestle the pig. It wasn't fun, but it was, at times, necessary.

Garrett watched as Frank patted his stack of reports, rose and headed to his credenza to pour a drink. He didn't ask if Garrett wanted one, which could mean a dismissal was forthcoming, but instead of sipping at the amber liquid himself, Frank pressed the glass into his hand on his way to the door.

"Frank, what's—" he started to say, but was cut off when his boss called for Abby.

He left the door open and settled on the sofa. Garrett stood in front of Frank's desk, drink forgotten in his hand as he watched Abby close the door behind her and cross the room to take a seat on the sofa next to Frank.

They both looked at him expectantly, but Garrett was a bit confused. "Did I miss a memo or something?" he asked as he moved across the room to stand in front of the side chair. He held up the drink, waving it towards the Commissioner and his aide, seated rather a bit closer than he thought might be proper.

"A memo might have been easier," Frank rumbled. 

Abby reached out a laid a hand on Frank's thigh, a small gesture that was far more intimate than it should have been, and Garrett was hit by a sudden—and not necessarily welcome—insight. He dropped down into the chair, his eyes darting between the two of them.

"What's going on, Frank?" he asked, though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer. When Frank remained stubbornly silent, Garrett turned to Abby. "How long has this been going on?"

"About six months," Abby said.

"Six months?" Garrett practically shouted. "And I'm just hearing about it now? Who else knows?"

"You're the first," Frank said.

"Wh—How is that possible?" Garrett asked, then his eyes bugged out as the implications of that set in. "Wait, you haven't told the family yet?"

Frank and Abby shared a look, and Garrett could tell without either one of them saying something that this was a subject they'd gone around in circles with. Probably more than a few times. Garrett could sympathize; it seemed like that was Frank's favorite game.

"We've…talked about it," she said.

"Should I feel special?" Garrett asked, then shook his head. "Forget I said that. I'm glad you told me. We'll have to get out in front of this. I'm actually kind of shocked that Page Six hasn't gotten ahold of this, but that won't keep. We'll—"

"No," Frank said, interrupting Garrett's train of thought. "No press releases. This is my private life, and I'll thank you to keep it that way: private."

Garrett looked from Frank to Abby. "I'm with him on this one. I don't want any press attention."

"Then why tell me at all?" Garrett asked. Then he had a horrible thought. "You're not—are you—"

Abby raised an eyebrow at him, sending a hot blush over Garrett's face for the first time in years. The woman was better than his own mother at making him feel foolish, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He collapsed back into the chair and sipped at the drink Frank had pressed into his hand, suddenly grateful that he had.

Thoughts were swirling through his head as he mindlessly consumed the drink. Why they'd chosen now to tell him, how it was possible to keep something as incendiary as the Police Commissioner dating his personal aide a secret, what to do in the (almost certain) event that the story broke. It took him longer than he'd like to admit to get his thoughts together, but when he thought he had a good grasp of things, he sat up and set the nearly empty glass aside.

"Okay, I presume you're telling me this because you're about to go a little more public than quiet dinners in some of Manhattan's more discreet dining establishments." Abby nodded, but Frank's almost smile confirmed he was on the right track. "So, telling the family and maybe Abby attending Mass on a regular basis, joining the family for Sunday dinner?" Again they both nodded. "The Monsignor's charity ball next month; she's your date, which will raise all sorts of questions."

"Questions I'd rather not answer," Frank said. When Garrett opened his mouth to retort, Frank held up a hand. "But I realize that it's a bit…unusual for the Commissioner to take is aide as his date. So, there'll be questions."

"And my job is to make sure that those questions get answered without giving away too much," Garrett said. "You realize we'll have to give them something, Frank. They're not going to take crumbs from the Commissioner's table and be satisfied. You might even find yourself followed home a time or two, just so they can catch you two together."

Frank cringed but nodded. "I had suspected as much."

"So, we pick a reporter—someone we trust—and give him a heads-up. Give him the relevant information without going into gross detail, and if we pick the right person, we'll avoid the more salacious angles this thing could generate. Not that I think that'll mean you can entirely duck the questions. Your next press conference is going to be a circus."

"They should be used to me not commenting on things I don't want to talk about by now," Frank said, a sly grin on his face.

"Doesn't mean they won't try, but I'll deflect as much as I can." Garrett thought about it for a moment, then turned to Abby. "You might want to think about staying somewhere else until the storm blows over. The press are going to go nuts. I wouldn't be surprised if they followed you home and camped out on your doorstep until they got some answers."

"She has a doorman," Frank said.

"Who isn't above giving away relevant details for the right price," Garrett said. It was Abby's turn to look offended, but Garrett held up his hand. "I know you trust the guy, but this is going to be big news. Frank is one of Manhattan's most eligible bachelors, and you've just bagged him. People are going to want to know, and it's the job of the city's reporters to dig up the dirt and sell it to them."

"There isn't any dirt," Frank said. "Just two people who found themselves with a lot in common and a mutual affection that went far beyond friendship."

"Gee, thanks Frank," Abby said, bumping her shoulder against his. "Way to take the romance out of it."

Frank smiled at her and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. Garrett just stared, not even sure at this point how he could have missed it. There was clear affection in their eyes as they looked at each other, and he found himself rooting for them without even trying.

"She can stay with me," Frank said into the ensuing silence. 

"That's not a bad idea," Garrett said, causing Frank to raise his eyebrows in surprise. "What? The parking garage is easier to control in terms of access, so it'll be harder for them to follow her home if they don't see her car leave. Of course, if they're following you, they'll see her get out at your house, but we can work around that."

Abby winced. "Frank, maybe I should just go stay with my sister."

"Your sister would not handle the press on her lawn very well," Frank said. "My father, on the other hand, is no stranger to this sort of thing. And this is why I have a protective detail."

"Which you might want to consider augmenting, just until the worst of it blows over," Garrett said. He raised his eyebrow when Frank's expression turned speculative. "What?"

Frank dipped his head before responding. "You haven't said what you think of all of this."

Garrett smiled. "I didn't know my opinion counted for anything." Frank scowled at him, which only made Garrett smile wider. He stood up and buttoned his jacket. "I can see how happy you are together, and I'm glad to see it. No two more deserving people I know."

He moved towards the door, but turned with his hand on the handle. "I'll bring over a list of reporters I think we can trust in the morning, Frank. Just, don't elope in the next month without telling me first. Okay?"

"Good night, Garrett," Frank said, but he was smiling, which took the sting out of the dismissal.

Garrett waved them off and pulled the door open, catching sight of Abby curling into Frank as he pulled the door shut, shoes off as she settled on the couch. There was a soft smile on Frank's face that he'd never have believed the man capable of if he hadn't seen it himself. 

There were days when he thought his boss took special delight in making his life difficult. Strangely, this wasn't one of them. If he were a more romantic soul, he'd say love could do that to a man, but he wasn't that guy. Couldn't afford to be that guy and do his job. But, he could protect what he'd seen and help nurture it. Frank and Abby deserved that much.

He shook his head, unable to wipe the smile off his own face as he closed the door the rest of the way, his mind already churning with the names of people they could trust. 

~Finis


End file.
